Last Cup of Coffee
by a-lonely-scribe
Summary: His first customer of the day would likely be, as always, a haphazard girl, who turned up almost the moment after he unlocked the doors. She was something of a mess when she came by. One Shot. AU. PruCan (femPrussia). Warning: Straight Fluff.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia... Obviously._

_Just another coffee shop au. Canada/FemPrussia. Enjoy._

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Matthew was opening the shop, as always, he had mornings free from class and often used this time to make a few extra dollars. He was setting coffee to brew and unloading the trays of cookies and muffins from the bakery next door – a joint venture of brother and sister. His first customer of the day would likely be, as always, a haphazard girl, who turned up almost the moment after he unlocked the doors. She was something of a mess when she came by. Her clothes were wrinkled – sweater oversized and hanging off her slight shoulders. Her knees were often bruised and skinned and tucked into combat boots, mismatched socks peeking out the top. Her hair would always be in shambles, pulled up high on her head, white blonde tendrils falling over her shoulders and into her face.

She looked like this every day without fail. Even the Mondays she came in with her two friends – a tall blond and a broad shouldered brunet – to talk of their weekend conquests she dressed the same. This morning was little different. It was a Tuesday. Matthew unlocked the doors and went back to brewing coffee. She came in not three seconds later, the door banging open with the swirling wind, rain splattering against the panes. Her clothes were, again mismatched, a startling bright shirt jumping out from the collar of her dark army style jacket, pink striped socks creeping over the edge of her boots. Her hair was pulled up messily, held back from cascading around her face with yellow bird shaped pins.

She approached the counter, boots stomping and rain dripping, ghosting her fingernails across the glass showcase without actually laying her fingers on it – as if she was aware that someone would have to clean that glass, unlike so many of Matthew's other customers. Her russet eyes flicked up to him, an unasked request.  
"The usual?" Matthew hummed it, pulling a large mug down from the wall.

She seemed to hesitate from her normal order – large mexican roast, hold milk and sugar, dark and bitter like my men, she would say with a saucy wink some mornings. On Mondays she would deviate and get something hopped up on caffeine, to cope with the bitter taste of hangovers, Matthew assumed.

"Large still obviously," a shimmer of a smirk graced her lips, "Maybe extra caffeinated?"  
Matthew raised his eyebrow and held back the 'thats what she said'. It was generally frowned upon at work, though he did think that she had set him up for it. "I'll give you my specialty."

"That's what she said." She snorted and then pulled at her jacket pockets.

Of course. Matthew almost rolled his eyes, but instead started making her a drink. She fished out some crumpled bills and began unfolding them. "How much?"

"Nah." Matthew shrugged, "Forget it."

Her eyes narrowed, as if she was suspicious of his intentions, and perhaps she had a right to be so. "Really?"

"Yeah. Whatever. You come in here like everyday."

"Sooooo?" A five dollar bill hovered over the counter.  
"So piss off and just take the damned drink."

That made her smile, her lips curving up for a moment. The bill disappeared and she took drink. Forget even bothering to play coy, she just outright grinned at Matthew, "Cheers."

They didn't really speak further that day, or even over the next few weeks. Just a harried 'hi' or 'how are you?', a few smiles, and the normal exchange of drinks for bills, though sometimes he would not take the money and she didn't question it those times. His brother laughed at Matthew's attempts to woo 'the coffee shop girl' as he called her, but Alfred was a dick and Matthew wasn't trying to woo her really. If he wanted to date her he'd just friggen ask. He wasn't that much of a pansy.

Or so he kept telling himself every time she walked into the coffee shop, looking frazzled and undone.

One day was dark and stormy and more than half an hour past opening when the front door swung open bringing rain in with her. The shop was empty and Matthew was leaning over a textbook about geological landscapes. Puddles accompanied her footsteps to the counter and she leant her elbows onto it, raindrops sliding down her white blonde hair, darkened almost grey with the rain, and onto Matthew's notes. "Oi," he said, pulling the papers away from her, "Watch it."

"Coffee?"

Matthew looked up and she was drenched, head to toe in her usual mismatched outfit. "I'm surprised you bothered coming in with this storm."

"Coffee."

"Can't make it at home?" Matthew laughed and threw a towel on top of her head. She mumbled something into it as she rubbed her hair on it. "Extra caffeine today?"

She nodded and her hair tumbled out of her bird clips, tangled and snarled, way down past her shoulders. Matthew had no idea it was so long. She tugged off her army jacket, black patches on her blue shirt where the water had seeped through, and flung it over one of the wooden chairs. Matthew handed her a large cup and she didn't even bother to pull out her wallet. Matthew stifled a laugh and she shivered as she took a sip.

"I'm Matthew by the way."

"Lee." Matthew's lips frowned and he gave her a look that clearly said 'if you didn't want to tell your real name you could have just told me to fuck off instead of giving me this obviously fake one'. His look was so precise that she scowled in response. "That is my real name!"

"Sure. Whatever you say." Matthew went into the back room and left 'Lee' leaning over the counter with her caffeinated beverage.

"Okay fine!" He heard her yell from the front after a few moments. "I'll tell you my real name."

Matthew came back out and dropped his green sweatshirt on her head, "What is it?"

"Annaliese."

Matthew's lips twisted in an attempt to hold back his snicker, but there really was no saving that one.

"WHAT?!" Annaliese snarled, clearly unhappy with Matthew's endeavours at laughter suppression.

"No no!" Matthew held up his hands, still chuckling, "It is a very pretty name. I just, I see why you don't like it."

Annaliese paused in her attempts to tame her knotted hair. "What's that supposed to mean?" she growled around one yellow bird hair clip stuck in her mouth.

"Actually I take it back," Matthew grinned, "It suits you perfectly."

Annaliese wrinkled up her face and her mouth in a twisted gesture that was halfway between a grimace and a pout. As her mouth finally fell into a sulk, she pulled Matthew's sweatshirt tightly around her. She looked like she was drowning in it, the bright green making her pale and lifeless. The sleeves fell over her hands when she cupped her mug.  
"Don't spill anything on my shirt," he warned, "It's new."

"Like I would waste precious coffee." She drawled. And it was a drawl, all lazy and contemptuous.

On most mornings, other than Mondays when she met her objectively good looking friends, Annaliese was a rush of uncontrollable energy, as though she were on the verge of something late. Even Mondays had her react this way – her laugh rang louder and her gestures were both expressive and expansive. Today her energy felt sluggish, as though she was under water and perhaps she was dragged down by the weight of the rain in her clothes. A drawl didn't seem to be her normal mode of speaking, stretched out sounds over syllables, instead her previous words had been outbursts of clipped sentences.

He blinked into the silence their brief camaraderie had stumbled into and Annaliese grinned at him, crooked, "Hey Mattie! Get your head outta the stars."

Matthew smiled sheepishly and shook his head, "Sorry. I guess I need a cup myself." He shuffled over to the coffeemaker. It hissed and gurgled as coffee streamed into the cup.

"So kid," Annaliese pulled the hood of Matthew's sweater over her wet hair. She looked ill swathed in all that bright green, "You still in school?"

Matthew shrugged. "Yeah. Well. Last year I guess."

Her burnished eyes sized him up, studying intently. They roved across his face first, taking in every detail, every flaw, the laugh lines that crinkled his eyes and curved his mouth, the wrinkles that scrunched up his forehead from too many days of dealing with Alfred. Then they scoured the length of his body, slowly, up and down, the scars on his arms, burn marks from an accident involving a candle, before coming back to rest on his face, on his eyes behind his slightly crooked glasses. "How old are you?" Her tone was incredulous and suspicious, as though she had already assigned him an identity and now found her original estimate lacking.

"Older than you think I am." His response was dry. Matthew was used to people assuming he was younger than he actually was and figured that Annaliese had done the same.

Her eyes narrowed and her pale brows crouched to meet them. The clock behind them chimed the hour and Vash walked in the back, prompt as always. Annaliese stared down into the depths of her cup and further questioning about Matthew's age did not continue.

And time crept forward endlessly, and days and weeks went by with Annaliese coming into the shop, rushing about in a frantic energy because she had better places to be. They managed some few joking words over the counter, as Matthew poured her coffee – large mexican dark, no sugar, no cream – Matthew commented on her bird hair pins, Annaliese mentioned his revolving door of different coloured sweatshirts. They would laugh together, Matthew a quiet chuckle, Annaliese's loud and invading. Sometimes she would suggest a book he should read, for the days when the coffee shop was quiet and he didn't feel like studying. Sometimes he would tell her the title of a good movie, on the days when she came in looking sleepless and even paler than usual in her dark clothing.

Alfred didn't mock Matthew about 'the coffee shop girl' anymore. Too much time had passed for Alfred to be interested in Matthew's glacier paced romance. But, Matthew was pleased and just a little bit smug to note, a relationship was forming. Some sort of one anyways. Matthew had never been interested in the flash and the fire that seemed to comprise many of Alfred's short lived relationships.

Some days passed and Matthew worried as he read a historical based novel that Annaliese had recommended him because he hadn't seen her in days. Her usual Monday, standing date, with her blond and her brunet had come and gone and Thursday was creeping closer. He wondered where she had been, she had mentioned nothing on Friday when she came in even more energetic and rushed than usual, spitting out jumbles of sentences in no particular order as she received her coffee.

Matthew was due to end his shift in fifteen minutes when the door opened. It was busy, the shop crowded as lunch hour slowly approached. A beautiful woman walked in, with her blond hair coiled about her head in sets of braids and dressed neatly in brown and a light pink which highlighted rather than subdued the faint colour in her cheeks. And Matthew's mouth fell open when he spotted the yellow bird clips tucked in among the braids, because he had fallen in love (or something like it) with the mess Annaliese had been presenting to him for months now and had no idea how to deal with the beautiful woman with commandeering energy before him.

She laughed when she saw him, and it was the same as ever, invasive and powerful, "Close your trap kid."

"And to think I wouldn't have recognised you if it wasn't for these," Matthew tapped the clips in her hair and she was taller than normal because she was wearing cream coloured heels and Matthew was not prepared to deal with this new incarnation before him, who definitely went by Annaliese rather than the moniker Lee.

"Don't look so surprised," she smirked reaching for the coffee – dark and bitter – he automatically poured her. "I'm not fifteen. You didn't think I actually went to work how you see me at seven in the morning did you?"

"Most people usually shower and get dressed before turning up here," Matthew snarked, not even bothering to feel bad over his rudeness.

Annaliese rolled her eyes, "Most people don't live next door. I'm afforded the luxury of coming here half-dressed to get my fix."

"Well aren't you just blessed."

"I know," she preened, "not everyone can be as awesome as me."

"Glad to see your attitude is as cocky as ever," Matthew was dry as he grabbed his backpack from beneath the counter, "Your clothing swap certainly doesn't make you more ladylike."

Annaliese opened her mouth to make what Matthew assumed would be a scathing remark, but stopped when Matthew stepped out from behind the counter, Vash sliding in to take his place. "Where are you going?"

"Class." He grinned at the look on her face, "What? Didn't think I spent my whole day here did you?" It was teasing of course, and Annaliese followed him outside, her shoes tapping instead of the stomping gait he had become accustomed to her army boots making.

"Lunch?" She said it in an offhand way, into her paper coffee cup, as though she didn't want him to actually hear her and accept.

"Can't." Her mouth twisted, and he wondered for a moment if she was wearing lipstick, "I've class in twenty."

"What class?"

"Polymeric Biomaterials."

Annaliese blinked and frowned at the name. "Wow if you didn't want to go to lunch you could have just said so instead of making a class up." Matthew rolled his eyes and fished the textbook out of his bag. "Oh well shit."

"Why're you in so late today?"

She seemed to be following him to the university and Matthew wasn't sure why, but wasn't about to turn down her company. "Miss me the last few mornings?" She smiled, something that Matthew figured was supposed to be a cross between winning and charming, but instead appeared goofy, her lips stretching back over her teeth mismatching the more predatory gleam in her eyes. This look was much more like the Annaliese of seven a.m. than this dressed up mannequin.

"Hardly, but I nearly finished the book you leant me and who would I get another one from?"

"Oh fine. I'm back from my conference so our standing seven o'clock date will have to do." Annaliese gave Matthew a mock salute and turned the next corner, leaving Matthew alone in the blowing wind.

Some more weeks passed, but with distinct change. Annaliese darkened the coffee shop doors only dressed fine. Her hair was perfectly plaited and coiled – bird clips nestled in her braids like chicks in a nest. Her clothing would be a professional array of browns and creams and greys, with heels that matched and belts and shirts in pale greens, icy blues, and light pinks. Matthew openly wondered at the change and her rusted eye roll informed him that work had overtaken her life – it wasn't everyday that the one hundred year anniversary of the war was happening and she needed to put together a special display at the museum. Matthew was pleased that this elegant and sophisticated version of Annaliese did not completely veil the crass one underneath.

Two days after the date of the anniversary had come and gone. Annaliese stumbled in, hair a tangle, in an oversized sweatshirt, too dark for her pale complexion, and her army boots. Matthew laughed "Well look what the cat dragged in." Annaliese grunted something that was likely unflattering. "And here I thought I would never get to see you in your usual wear again."

"I told Francis that I didn't need to get dolled up to get attention."

Matthew smiled brightly, "Vash and Lilli are convinced that you are a crack addict."

"Bullshit."

Matthew tugged on a strand of her hair that had escaped her bird clips. "Do you look in a mirror before you come here?"

"Are you gonna get around to asking me on a date Matthew, or just keep flirting with me?"

Matthew choked on his coffee and Annaliese smirked. And when Matthew managed to regain his breath, he looked at her – red faced, from both almost dying and blushing – she was still grinning. Her lips were tugged upwards in a mocking laughter, but her eyes were a bit wide for such derisive an emotion.

"Well," Matthew began dryly, setting what was left of his coffee aside, "if you wanted a date so badly, you could have just asked."

And it was Matthew's turn to smirk as Annaliese gaped, but before the hour ended he had her number and they had made plans for the weekend.

Matthew showed up at the restaurant a tangle of nerves in his stomach, worrying that their camaraderie was a spell held only intact by the sanctity of the coffee shop. Annaliese it seemed, was faring no better, as she jittered in her seat, dressed in something that was a cross between the professional clothes she generally wore and her mismatched punk rock image that she brought him in the mornings. The bird clips were, as always, tucked into her artfully messy hair, and Matthew was glad to see them. It made their date seem like a normal occurrence and less likely to be consigned to the realm of fantasy.

They sat in awkward small talk for a while, topics like how their days went and the weather falling stale and flat between them. Then Annaliese saved the night with a crack about the shirt Matthew was wearing, and it was a bit nicer than his usual fare, but it was a date after all, and soon the two fell into their regular mode of sarcasm. The awkwardness fizzled between them and everything did end up going smoothly, as they both grinned widely at each other across the table, lingering over extra cups of coffee, legs brushing each other's under the table, like a secret.

And Matthew walked her home in the crisp winter night, the moon catching the colours in the snow. He wondered if he would be able to gather the courage to steal a kiss at her doorstep, but Annaliese also solved that problem with her usual vigour, grabbing his scarf and pulling him in for one as they hovered on her doorstep.

As winter lightened into spring their dates become more frequent and their kisses longer, and Matthew finally got to mock Alfred for once, since 'the coffee shop girl' had become more of a reality and less of a fantasy. Matthew formally met Annaliese's coffee shop Mondays, Francis and Antonio, no longer being just the boy who served them coffee once a week. After he had officially met them, Matthew nudged Annaliese with the elbow that linked their hands, "Does this mean we are actually dating?"

She eyed him suspiciously behind a curtain of her usual messily pinned up hair, "What kind of question is that?"

"Well now that I've met your friends..." Matthew grinned.

"You knew them before."

"Yeah. As the two-random-guys-the-pretty-girl-i-see-everyday-hangs-out-with-on-mondays."

"Long name."

"I called them TRGTPGISEHOWOM for short."

"You've been spending too much time with your brother."

Matthew tugged Annaliese to a stop on the bridge and touched his forehead against hers. "Hardly."

"I know," spoken long and mischiveous, like her energy was trying to wrap around them both, "You are always at my place now."

"I thought you liked that."

"Hardly," she mimicked in falsetto.

Matthew headbutted her softly, forehead still resting against hers, "I don't sound like that."

She grinned up at him, teeth sharp and wicked, "I don't sound like that," her mimic continued, "I am Matthew. I work at a coffee shop. I like to drink be-" and she fell off into a shriek quickly stifled as Matthew hoisted her over his shoulder and threatened to drop her over the bridge. He got an army boot in the back for his troubles.

A second kick to the back nearly did have him drop her into the river and he hastened to put her down. The fall was long and the water was anything but calm, with the winter snows melting. She frowned at him, growling, upper lip lifting in a snarl, but her burnished eyes sparkled with laughter and delight. "Teach you to throw me in the river."

"Teach you to mimic me."

And that started their antics all over again. Annaliese, with her face flushed a healthy shade of pink from being held over Matthew's shoulders for so long, went back to repeating everything Matthew said to her in a falsetto and Matthew threw slush balls at her as they raced through the city streets, laughing and yelling like children.

They collided to a stop just outside of Annaliese's place, both muddier than they had been when they left for dinner. The sleeves of Matthew's bright red sweater were wet, weighted down by the memory of snow. Annaliese's hair had long escaped her pins and her birds were making their bid for freedom. Matthew caught one and handed it to her as they began laughing at the other's dishevelled appearance. Though truthfully Matthew was sure he had seen Annaliese at her worst a hundred times over during their coffee shop mornings. He saved another bird from flying free and handed it to her with a muddy kiss, his lips now printed upon her cheek. Annaliese wrinkled her nose at Matthew and swiped a finger through the mud lips on her cheek. "Gross."

"Com'ere then," Matthew puckered up his lips into a ridiculous kissy face and Annaliese put her hands out to stop his advances. Her small thin hands hit him in the chest and she really should have known that that wouldn't stop him. He leant forward, making smoochie noises with his muddy mouth and when Annaliese turned her face away in response, Matthew began placing them on her neck, on her shirt, in her hair.

"Matthew!" It was a shriek and it ended on chuckle as she wiggled her hands uselessly, unable to free them from between their bodies. Her chortling grew louder as Matthew mercilessly continued to cover her in muddy kisses. She ducked her head in an attempt to escape underneath Matthew's right arm, but all that happened was that he got her in a headlock.

"You lose."

"I never lose!"

"You lost right now," he sang and then let go of her head and began swinging his hips in a ridiculous victory dance. And as he was completing the second turn of his beautiful victory dance Annaliese grabbed at his drenched sleeve. "What?" he grinned.

"You look ridiculous."

Matthew pulled her into his caper and smiled when she added in her own silly dance moves. "Now you are ridiculous too."

"Nah uh."

"Uh huh."

"Nah uh."

"Uh huh."

Annaliese stuck her tongue out and Matthew caught that too. When they broke apart, later, Matthew smiled at her flushed face. "Thanks."

Her rusted eyes flicked up to his own in surprise. "For what?"

"For waking up a mess and coming into Vash's coffee shop every morning for seven months."

Annaliese rolled her eyes, as if that could account for everything, and flicked him on the nose, "Yeah whatever kid."

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_Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, and if you see any grammar/spelling errors let me know so I can fix them._


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